Hard 'H'
by louisestrange
Summary: Ficlet: Kurt and Adam discuss the subtle difference between British and American English while shopping. Flirty banter ensues.


A/N: So, my first Kadam fic just _happened_ today while I was busy trying to update both of my Kurtofsky works-in-progress...I think those of you reading 'Coquetry and the Culinary Arts' will like this, as it has a similar feel. Enjoy and, as always, please review!

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**Hard 'H'**

Kurt surveys the contents of his shopping basket, blue eyes alight with possibilities. "I think we just need some parmesan and plan 'risotto by candlelight' is a go."

Adam can't help but grin at him as they amble unhurriedly through the aisles of the Food Emporium, taking enough time to ensure that when they get back, Kurt's flatmates will have safely vacated the loft, leaving them alone for one rare and glorious romantic evening of food and wine and loud, uninterrupted—

"Oh, and _herbs_!" Kurt grabs lightly at his forearm, jarring him from a rather delicious train of thought and steering him bodily away from bakery section, "I need flat-leaf parsley and chives, and I think I'll pick up some oregano, if they have any. Do they actually have fresh _herbs_ here?"

"Herbs?" Adam asks, eyes wide in earnest query. Something about Kurt's undisguised enthusiasm never fails to ignite a spark of mischief in him.

"Yes, _herbs_."

"Excuse me?"

Kurt furrows his brow and cocks his head to the said before speaking slowly. "I said, _herbs_. Little green planty-things that help flavor your food."

"Oh, you mean, Herbs."

"I mean _herbs_," Kurt assures him, smile returning as he shakes his head in amused understanding, "because this is America and that's what we call them here."

"Interesting."

"Isn't it?" Kurt smirks and lets the handle of his shopping basket slide into the crook of his bent arm, the bulk of it bouncing against his swaying hip as they walk past a brightly lit row of refrigerated dairy products. "Two nations divided by a common language, and all that."

"No, I mean it's interesting that you'll acknowledge the 'H' in Here, but not in Herbs."

"In much the same way as it's interesting that you pronounce the 'H' in _herbs_ but not in _'appy,_" Kurt counters, ending with his best 'mockney' accent.

"Kurt Hummel!" Adam says, with heavy emphasis on the _'Hu'_ part of his boyfriend's surname. He looks indignant as he goes on, "I'm deeply offended by your insinuation. I'll have you know that I have never dropped an 'H' in my life."

Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Oh no?"

"Never. I have perfect diction."

"What was that? You have a perfect _what_ now?" His teeth graze his bottom lip as his mouth stretches towards a grin, mischief clear and bright in his own eyes as he reaches for a wedge of prepacked parmigiano reggiano. "You're mumbling again, dear. I think it's the accent. I didn't quite catch what you said."

"I happen to think you heard me, Mr Hummel," Adam says, sidling closer as they continue to traverse the dairy aisle, leaning in to ensure that his lips are close enough to Kurt's ear that he'll be able to feel the warmth of his breath against his lobe with every over-accentuated syllable, "and I can assure you that your attempt to distract me with tawdry innuendo is utterly futile."

Kurt narrows his lips, feigning innocence as he bites back a wicked smile. "I don't know what you mean."

"Ha!" Adam laughs and pulls swiftly away, turning so he's walking backwards, facing Kurt as he goes on in a hushed whisper, "What I mean is that underneath that butter-wouldn't-melt choirboy exterior, you have a dirty, filthy, thoroughly concupiscent mind. And you know it drives me crazy."

"I am scandalized by that accusation, Mr Crawford."

"Oh, really?" His eyes widen comically and he stops abruptly so that Kurt almost walks into him, bringing them flush but for the corner of shopping basket that keeps their hips apart, "A bit like I was thoroughly scandalized when you took me back to your flat last week and suggested we—"

Kurt brings a silencing finger to Adams lips, "Ah-ah-ah! No need to get so personal in such a public place." He leans in close, "Need I remind you that your 'H's weren't the only things you were more than willing to drop that night?"

Adam shrieks in faux-horror. "Who's getting personal now?"

Kurt's smile spreads, slow and satisfied, across his face and Adam backs off, shifts so that they're side by side again as they round the corner towards the end of the produce aisle, where the packs of fresh, bright green herbs hang on a rack in neat rows. They grin at one another.

"There you go," Adam say, waving his hands, hostess-style, at the display. "All the 'erbs an 'ummel can 'andle. Or should I say little green planty-things?"

"You should say Herbs," Kurt replies with a huff of breath, making sure to over-do his pronunciation of the 'H'. He sighs and rolls his eyes in mock annoyance as he grabs for the parsley. "Happy now?"

"Happy," Adam answers and places a quick, smacking kiss on his boyfriend's cheek. "You know I just love it when you give me a good, hard 'H'."


End file.
